


Becoming Sean Elliot

by Jaydeemz



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Again, Happy Birthday Sammy, In which Connor and Oliver aren't soulmates, M/M, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3927739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaydeemz/pseuds/Jaydeemz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor knew four things. One, this was the Keating Five's first case, and they were about to lose. Two, Connor found out that the tech's name was Oliver. Three, he saw that Oliver's soulmate was called Sean Elliot. Four, Connor knew that he had terrible morals, his friends had terrible morals, and they would all be delighted if Connor cheated Oliver into believing he was his soulmate. Well, it worked a bit too well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Becoming Sean Elliot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SamanthaB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamanthaB/gifts).



"This is our first case," outlined Michaela sharply, "and we are going to lose."

The rest of the Keating five shifted uncomfortably in the booth of the upscale bar -- well, all but Laurel, who still seemed shell-shocked at everything that had happened to her in the last week. Wes, who was texting his newly-found soulmate Rebecca Sutter, barely glanced up from his phone at Michaela's dramatic outburst.

"Something will come up," Asher shrugged, before his hand shot out and he grabbed the wrist of a thin blonde woman walking by. "Excuse me, is your name Penny Jones?"

She shot him a disgusted look, shook her head, and walked off before tugging her wrist away.

"Damn," Asher sighed, before realizing that his colleagues were all staring at him rather judgmentally. His eyebrows arched. "What? She looked like a Penny."

"No, she looked like Bonnie; you need to get over your boy crush. You also need to stop asking every single woman if she's your soulmate," Michaela rolled her eyes at him. "Let it happen. It will be romantic."

"If Aiden's still the way I remember him to be, your meeting will be anything but romantic," Connor smirked into his martini glass.

Michaela's eyes flashed dangerously as she whirled on Connor. "For the thousandth time, Connor, my soulmate is not your ex-boyfriend! I refuse to believe it. There are more than one Aiden Walker in this world."

"I saw him naked, Michaela, I know his soulmate's name, and it definitely wasn't Connor Walsh," teased Connor with a smirk, before he dodged her purse as it was thrown at him abruptly.

"Can we get back to the case?" Laurel's voice was small and lacked confidence, and everyone immediately sobered. Laurel, who was accused by other students of having been chosen by Annalise because of the name on her collarbone. Everyone had met Frank, and every student had noticed how conservative Laurel's wardrobe immediately became to cover the dark ink on her chest. When Annalise called out the name Laurel Castillo after that first week of class, everyone had doubted whether she had been chosen for her skills, or because Annalise most likely believed in soulmates.

It hadn't helped that Frank had been sporting a shiny hickey from his current girlfriend on his neck when he had noticed the name tattooed on Laurel's body. It was a rather difficult situation to be in, and everyone in the group could sympathize to some degree.

"If only we could find the inside scoop," Asher sighed, slumping with his head thrown back. He molded his face in an expression of utter despair and sagged closer to Wes, who glanced at him impassively.

A rush of cool fall air filled the bar when the door opened to let in a group of employees. The Keating Five seemed to unconsciously learn forward as they glanced at them from the corner of their eyes, evaluating for a weak spot as the group confidentially marched towards the bar.

One man walked by, however, and he was the definition of a prey. Thick glasses on his face and slouched shoulders, he looked as though he was practically bullied into tagging along. He raised a hand and brushed it against the back of his collar as he glanced wistfully around the room, and Connor's eyes flickered upward just in time to see the tattoo behind the man's neck.

Sean Elliot.

Connor stared at the man for a long time, until he heard a colleague call him by name: "Oliver." When another colleague teased that they had finally managed to drag him away from his servers, Connor felt a rush of adrenaline shoot through him.

Abruptly, the student turned to Michaela. "I'm going to get a drink. You're going to walk up to me, and call me Sean Elliot, and then I'll find us a way to win this case."

She barely had time to acknowledge the order that Connor had stood up. He made his way to the bar, where Oliver and his colleagues were grouped together, and waved a hand to get the bartender's attention. As he did so, he leaned on the counter and turned right to Oliver, who was shyly looking his way. Connor froze, changing his expression in one of surprise, and nervously turned back to the bar. It was pretense at its finest.

One, two, three.

He peered back over his shoulder and met Oliver's curious gaze. His lips quirked in a half-smile as Michaela sauntered to him, and her clear voice rose high over the chatter surrounding them. "Sean Elliot, don't you dare leave me alone with them!" Michaela laughed and Connor turned to face her, but not before he noticed how Oliver's face had dropped in shock.

They got him.

The two law students ordered their drinks, but Connor asked for two Manhattans instead of one, and after winking at Michaela, he excused himself and made his way to Oliver. The poor man had retreated to a table alone and had loosened his tie, and looked one prod away from falling over. Connor confidently paced to the man and set one drink on the small circular table, before he smiled flirtatiously at Oliver's terrified expression.

"Your name wouldn't happen to be Oliver, would it?" Connor asked as he took a sip of his drink.

Oliver's eyes abruptly closed and he took in a shaking breath, before he opened his eyes and gave an insecure glance in Connor's direction. "I-I am. And you're Sean?"

"It's about damn time I find you," Connor sighed, grinning as wide as he could. Oliver's shy smile grew, and a reluctant laugh escaped his lips at Connor's aggressive flirting. Taking it a step further, Connor moved forward and pressed his lips against Oliver's, feeling the man immediately relax into the kiss. Connor moved closer, wrapping his arms around Oliver tightly as they kissed, yet a small twinge of regret tightened in his stomach when Oliver returned the kisses clumsily. Praying that Oliver wasn't the type to wait for his soulmate to engage in anything physical, although the way Oliver moved indicated that he most likely was, Connor pulled away and pressed their foreheads together. His voice felt a bit weak in his own ears when he murmured, "Magical -- everything I ever thought it would be."

Oliver's nervous laugh returned, but this time, he reached forward and gently kissed Connor; it was nothing but a quick, chaste peck, but it felt so domestic that Connor briefly felt sick. Oliver's eyes were shining brightly when he said, "Can we go talk somewhere private?"

It was an opportunity Connor couldn't refuse.

***

Oliver's stress seemed to dissipate in the cool air outside the bar, and he relaxed completely once they were settled in his apartment. Connor cringed when he saw the year written on the bottle of champagne that Oliver had just taken out of the rack. He was rummaging through a cupboard for a bottle opener, so Connor immediately scurried closer to Oliver and wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him closer so his chest would press flush against Oliver's back.

"Not only did I find you," Connor murmured into Oliver's neck as he pressed a few short kisses down the other man's neck, "but I find you during an exciting time."

Momentarily distracted, Oliver lowered the bottle on the counter and moved his head to give Connor a better access to his neck. He sighed into the touch when Connor bit lightly at the skin.

A twinge of frustration knotted Connor's stomach, so he prodded gently, "... With the secretary who tried to kill her boss..."

"Can't talk about that," Oliver sighed, reaching around to kiss the tip of the law student's nose. His hands then settled again inside the cupboard, and finally he pulled out the opener and brought it toward the cork.

So Connor changed tactics. He immediately stepped away from Oliver and, as the opener touched the bottle, he darkly said, "So you don't trust me?"

Oliver froze at the pained tone and turned to face Connor, letting the bottle opener hang limply in his hands. He blinked in surprise when he saw Connor take a few steps back, but still he hesitated, so Connor pressed on and said, "I should've known that this soulmate thing was bullshit. So much for love at first sight and all." He scoffed and immediately grabbed his discarded jacket, shoving his arms quickly into it. "I'm going to go, Oliver, and--"

"I'm sorry." Connor looked up to find Oliver standing just beside him, his face pale and his eyes wide. He'd left the champagne and the bottle opener on the counter, and his fingers curled around Connor's wrist. "I-I came across some emails I shouldn't have seen, and the legal department was very stern."

Connor tugged his wrist out of Oliver's grasp and zipped up his jacket.

Oliver panicked. "I can show them to you if you want. The emails. I know I can find them again."

Bingo.

***

Connor hated himself. He really, really hated himself.

Oliver was snoring softly beside him, the sheets tangled around his bare waist. Carefully, Connor reached over to pluck the glasses from Oliver's face, folding them up carefully and placing them on the bedroom nightstand. Oliver mumbled and rolled sideways, and the name of his soulmate was clearly visible despite the darkness in the room.

He had seen the emails, and the value they had for their case, and had immediately offered that they opened that champagne. He nursed one glass himself and got Oliver thoroughly drunk, before they both retreated to bed. Oliver had been so smashed by then that he'd promptly fallen asleep the moment that his undressed body had touched the mattress, and Connor was eternally grateful for that.

His own soulmate's name -- a girl much too young for him, deceased last year from suicide after she found out that she was in love with a woman, and her soulmate was a gay college student much older than she was -- was etched on his hipbone. It would've been a bit difficult to hide. He could --would -- pay for the champagne as an apology, but he was glad he hadn't taken that extra step.

Since when?

Connor wasn't a prude, but taking something that meant that much for Oliver just felt wrong. He remembered meeting his soulmate and her girlfriend, both of them momentarily shocked when they found out that Connor was gay. Connor had spent weeks messaging his soulmate to reassure her they could be friends. Some soulmates are platonic, so why couldn't that apply to them? In the end, her relationship had fizzled out, and the young woman had ended her own life. It wasn't because Connor's relationship hadn't worked out that he had to ruin Oliver's.

Connor tugged on his shirt, the only item of clothing he'd discarded when Oliver had stripped down eagerly, and made his way from the bedroom. He slammed the door once, sharply, but Oliver slept on.

Since it was confirmed that Oliver wouldn't wake up any time soon, Connor stalked to the laptop and booted it up. He'd distracted Oliver enough to keep him from powering the machine down, and the screen saver thankfully didn't have a lock. He whipped up the emails, hit print, and then went to retrieve the sheets of paper from the stuttering machine in the corner of the room. He hurriedly shoved them in his briefcase and once again put on his jacket, glancing once more at the delicious champagne bottle and glasses.

He fished out his wallet, took out all the cash he had on himself, and dumped everything beside the empty bottle. After a moment's hesitation, he reached for a notepad and paper, and decided that Oliver had the right to know.

"I'm sorry," he scribbled, swallowing past the lump of unease in his throat. There wasn't much to say, and after staring blankly at the paper, he signed: "Connor Walsh".

He placed the note on top of the paper and left, locking the door carefully behind him.

***

They won the case.

***

Weeks later, the Keating Five found themselves standing awkwardly in a shared hospital room, crowding around a teenage girl and her "posse" and her father, mother, step parents, step siblings, and a few boys who all claimed were her boyfriend. The girl wailed that the car accident wasn't her fault, that she didn't know it was illegal to drive drunk and underage, and Annalise looked a step away from throwing the case out the window because this girl just couldn't incriminate herself any further.

The girl began some tirade about how her life was over, and Connor rolled his eyes and turned away from the scene...

Only to find himself staring at someone who looked so much like Oliver Hampton that he jerked away. If it wasn't for the black and blue skin, or the swelling, it could almost be Oliver. He was sitting on the edge of the bed beside them, looking glumly at the floor as he pinched his nose to stifle the bleeding.

The stricken look in his eyes when they connected with Connor's, however, solidified the suspicion. Connor physically recoiled closer to Michaela, who gave him an annoyed glance.

Although Connor should have been focusing on the case, he instead eavesdropped as a nurse came in with ice packs and a cloth to wipe Oliver's bloody nose. Oliver's trembling hands grasped the ice tightly as he placed it over his swollen black eye, and he cringed when the nurse wiped his split lip.

"That guy looks like he needs a lawyer," Asher mused beside them. Connor glared at him just in time to realize that the entire Keating Five had been slyly looking at Oliver, clearly recognizing him from the bar success a few weeks prior.

"No, he doesn't," Connor firmly replied, crossing his arms as he resumed listening to the girl in front of them.

Moments later, a police officer came to speak with Oliver. They spoke in low tones, and all that Connor could hear was that Oliver had been on the receiving end of a few punches to the face that afternoon.

Connor also overheard that the attacker's name was Sean Elliott. Oliver's hand brushed against the back of his neck again and again, fingers insisting upon the back of his neck as he gave his statement. It was only when he got dismissed from the hospital staff and walked right by Connor, moist eyes staring straight ahead, that Connor noticed that the name on Oliver's neck was covered in dark red lines.

Almost unconsciously, as though he could follow Connor's thoughts, Oliver reached back for the name. Connor saw that he'd been wrong. Oliver wasn't rubbing at the skin.

He was trying to scratch it off his skin.

***

"I really am sorry," Connor murmured.

He'd eventually offered to drive Oliver home. The Keating Five had split up after that enlightening interview with the girl, and Oliver had been waiting for the bus when Connor had pulled out of the parking lot.

Oliver was silent a long time before he answered in a meek voice, "Don't be. My soulmate is some homophobic jerk who is so far in the closet that he had a skin graph. His soulmate is Olive Hampton, not Oliver." He scoffed softly and hugged himself, and Connor could see how much this had affected him. Oliver then said, "I still have your money on my buffet table -- I'd like you to take it back."

They stopped in front of Oliver's apartment complex, and Connor shook his head. He was about to protest when Oliver murmured, "I... I like you, Connor. I felt ridiculous when I walked up to Sean, earlier, to ask him if he wanted to give us a chance, since I was already... Well, I met you." Oliver was stuttering, and he even bit at his lip, forgetting that it was split. Then, Oliver frowned deeply and shook his head; it was an abrupt change of expression, and it made Connor uneasy.

"My soulmate is dead." It wasn't what Connor wanted to say, but the frown eased on Oliver's face a bit. The latter's eyes remained resolutely away from Connor. "So... If you want, we could use that money upstairs to get some takeout..."

The silence that stretched was so long that it became stifling. Connor's fingers lightly began to drum over the control panel for his windows, and he briefly wondered if Oliver would be insulted if he opened his window a crack. Perhaps it was just him, however.

"I knew you weren't Sean," Oliver finally admitted, his eyes now downcast. "Well, I knew you weren't that Sean Elliot. I-I knew what kind of man my soulmate was. I've known for a long time, Connor. Back at the bar... I knew you wanted something from me -- you were plotting with your friend and the entire group was staring at me. You were a bit obvious." A shy and reluctant smile was worming its way on the IT tech's lips.

Connor realized he was gaping. His fingers fell from the control panel as he moved to better face Oliver. "But the wine...? The--" He almost mentioned sex, but abruptly stopped himself. They hadn't, and it would be unfair to insinuate that they had.

Oliver smiled sadly as he finally glanced at Connor's confused face. "The champagne never would've served its true purpose since Sean isn't interested. Everyone is so hung up on finding their soulmates that I never thought I would have the opportunity to..." He swallowed thickly and his eyes shot back forward. "... To find someone else who might be interested in me. "

"Oh, I'm interested." Connor's confident smirk was firmly back in place. He quickly opened his car door and left, grinning as Oliver eagerly took out his keys and hopped from the car as well.

It was a few minutes later, when Oliver was shakily trying to unlock his stubborn door, that Connor's eyes trained on the scratches behind Oliver's nape. On impulse, he leaned forward and brushed his lips over the name, pressing soft open-mouthed kisses on the permanent ink as his hands found Oliver's sharp hips. He kissed until Oliver, who had tensed and frozen on the spot, shuddered softly in pleasure.

As Oliver opened the door -- mindful of the neighbor who had cracked her door open to see where the gasps were coming from -- Connor roughly murmured, "I'll make you forget about that name, Oliver." He reached up and dragged his teeth over the side of his neck, and then threw caution to the wind and whispered roughly, "I'll mark you myself until everyone knows you are mine."

Oliver pulled him inside with an eager smile.


End file.
